A Somewhat Flawed Ideal
She sat enrobed with a yarn
stocking cap as I told her the story
"The Star-Spangled Banner" was written for.
She nodded knowingly, a sage
in slippers on the summer grass;
as I told her they could still see the flag,
she said, "I can't" - for a second
I assumed ignorance, that I had
thrown her in too deep to see
the words and repercussions.
But her stare past me finally clicked,
and I noticed Old Glory on her porch
illuminated by the fireworks.
I grabbed her lawn chair and gently tipped
it back so she could see. "There."
She sat enrobed with a yarn
stocking cap as I told her the story
"The Star-Spangled Banner" was written for.
She nodded knowingly, a sage
in slippers on the summer grass;
as I told her they could still see the flag,
she said, "I can't" - for a second
I assumed ignorance, that I had
thrown her in too deep to see
the words and repercussions.
But her stare past me finally clicked,
and I noticed Old Glory on her porch
illuminated by the fireworks.
I grabbed her lawn chair and gently tipped
it back so she could see. "There."
Wallpaper
Entropy is the tendency for all matter and energy in the universe
to evolve toward a state of inert uniformity.
– Unknown
You've all - and I'm thrilled with this -
gone from scars
to scraps of wallpaper,
mosaic heartaches that can't make anyone
break anymore.
Like fall - and I'm pleased with this -
everyone has autumned
from blinding light
to little heights of glare nobody need
fight anymore.
These halls - and I'm cool with this -
have lost their scrawls
of sadness sprawled
like teardrops on tissue that life won't
save anymore;
and I don't care.
Obama’s Smile
More than any public acceptance
(or denial) of such death twitters
concerning the final May breath
of that bearded bomb, will long
be sparkling on the third son’s iris.
Never found? The hound’s
devious ideologies are soaked and sandy
in the hands of stars and stripes.
Regardless of the price, a gun
has glorified peace and bought a bad
end for some men’s jihad.
Doubtless the pouting pacifists
will shake their fists at a passive
populace lulled to sleep by more
than a radio show’s explosions.
Doubtless Zebari and Abbas will raise
unabashed praises towards a bruised ego
while Pervez perverts a presidency.
Doubtless the caves will echo the craven
goals of a ruined ghost.
Doubtless Obama’s smile stretched for miles.
BIO: “So You Think You Can Dance” reject Christopher Oie Keller earned an MAT from Western Oregon University. A former Victoria’s Secret supervisor, he now teaches in Portland. He also directs student plays and performs in community theatre. Published in publications such as The Delinquent, Leveler, and Right Hand Pointing, he will be appearing in The James Dickey Review and The African American Review. He managed to get married last year to someone who understands the writing process.
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